requiem & rebirth.
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"... Are you listening? Kanon!"
Sprawled across his back, he could see the sky most clearly. The grass was soft and fresh; its scent reached him even as his face was upturned, marred by cuts and the faintest blotches of dirt. It seemed almost like a foolish sort of luxury, something that should no longer exist but could still be found in the most common of places.
Kanon didn't know why he hadn't bothered standing. It was an old routine— Saga had grown disapproving upon hearing of his misdeeds within town, angry words had turned into the throwing of fists, and he simply hadn't seen the point in getting up again.
But Saga was predictable. After all, it was an old routine that hardly ever changed. Kanon anticipated it even as Saga sat down not far away and turned to look at him, hair tousled by the wind and melding with the color of the darkening sky. Beautiful and regal as always.
When Kanon turned to smirk at him, Saga's expression immediately shifted into annoyance.
"I'm listening, brother," he finally said after a moment.
Saga sighed.
It was becoming rare occasion to see his brother without the powerful shell of the Gemini cloth surrounding him, marking his status. Even without it, he was easily recognizable among the Sanctuary and the small villages nearby— A man with such a large presence was hard to miss, unlike Kanon, who remained all but out of sight. He didn't mind.
He did mind that the moments between them were also becoming all the more rare. Saga was diligent. He guarded the objects of his duties tirelessly, a pillar of strength and compassion. Like an angel.
But Kanon knew better than anyone that such confines would wither those beautiful wings, kill him slowly like a caged bird.
He held out a hand, and Saga stared at it for a moment before carefully entwining their fingers. Perhaps it was in these moments that they felt most alive— united as brothers— firm and strong, even as Saga slowly withered and died without even acknowledging it. It was a shame.
Kanon would take it upon himself to restore that beauty and find a way for them to live again.
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"Unhand me, Saga!!"
There was struggling. But no matter how fervently he twisted and pulled, Kanon could not escape his brother's solid hold at his back, unmoving arms hooked around his own. He had been all but dragged the entire way here, throat raw and his limbs thoroughly exhausted.
They were wading in water knee-deep now, the waves pushing against them and spraying them with a mist that should have been gentle. But Saga's silence was disconcerting. He hadn't said a word since trapping Kanon in his grasp, and Kanon could feel the faint, white edges of panic as they neared the cold bars at the base of Cape Sounion. He wouldn't, would he? Even at opposite ends of the spectrum they were brothers, black and white but two parts of one whole.
You are a devil.
Kanon immediately dug his heel into the ground and threw himself back. There was a clang as Saga's back hit the bars of the prison, the Gemini cloth raking against dark metal. "Kanon." Something in his voice shook. Kanon couldn't believe it.
Kanon, you are a devil.
When Kanon was tossed inside, he hit the ground, submerged in salty water that stung his eyes and irritated his wounds. He scrambled back almost immediately, pushing arms desperately through the bars until he could latch to one of his brother's wrists.
"What do you think you're doing, Saga?!" Rage, betrayal, that reoccurring panic. Let me out! Why is this happening? How could you—
It couldn't have been his brother that looked back at him so coldly, jerking his arm from Kanon's grasp and stepping beyond his reach.
You are a devil.
When the day had become completely swallowed and he could no longer see the sky, he couldn't hear the sound of his own screams over the crashing of the waves.
And you are dead to me.
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He had seen everything. Things should not have worked out this way.
"Brother, you are a fool."
Kanon had only embraced his true nature. And Saga, completely open and consumed by darkness, had been just as beautiful as he had imagined— What wrong was there in that? If Saga had heeded his words back then, nothing could have diminished the force of their combined efforts.
But, like a dying star, that large, unmistakable presence had burned as bright as the sun before disappearing completely. The distinct emptiness and silence it left behind was more prominent than anything he had ever felt before.
It didn't matter.
He would follow in the wake of something to which he had only been a shadow, and accomplish what his brother could not. Truly, in the end Saga had only reaped the way to his own demise. It had been inevitable, just as certainly as the awakening of that darkness had been inevitable. Certainly.
I am a devil.
He forced himself to laugh even as the tears rolled down his cheeks.